


Watch Over You

by Statementends (Blueberryshortcake)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Elias' backstory, Flashbacks, Heart of the Institute, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Recreational Drug Use, Sort Of, Voyeurism, Watching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 23:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberryshortcake/pseuds/Statementends
Summary: In 1991 Elias Bouchard is not a man aiming to make anything of himself.In 2011 Martin Blackwood does his best to hide himself from his coworkers.Both find their way to the Magnus Institute and end up doing what they do best. Watching.Everyone is going to die if Martin doesn't make a sacrifice.





	Watch Over You

**Author's Note:**

> So I basically know where I'm going with this story, but do mind the tags because they might change as it gets updated.

_ “Do you see?” _

 

**1991**

 

Elias Bouchard had not made a name for himself in academic circles. He was not a scholar, and had very little interest in learning for the sake of learning’s sake. His PPE with third class honours would doubtlessly get him nowhere in the middle of a recession, but he wasn’t bothered. He would probably have liked to say it was because he had a plan, or resources. Savings or contacts. 

But he didn’t

He just had expectation weighing above his head from distant parents that would withhold their pennies and dimes if he didn’t ‘earn’ it. Ironic. You’d think being born to money would mean not having to earn it.

The other thing that didn’t help much was the reputation he had gotten. Parties had been much more interesting than learning politics. He liked nothing better than to find a soft couch in some almost stranger’s flat and smoke and drink and ...watch. 

In hindsight it was lucky he only got a reputation as a pothead because there was nothing Elias liked more than to … people watch.

And when you’re at a party… well. A lot of the things you’re watching turns out to be fights, dancing, or sex. Especially sex. Elias wouldn’t mark himself down as a pervert exactly. It wasn’t about the sex, although he would be lying if he hadn’t taken note of some of the more attractive men and woman he spied on so casually behind a haze of smoke. It was a vicariousness for life. These people doing, and living. The nerd is the corner having a breakdown, the cute popular boy popping pills, the queen bee throwing up in the toilet. None of them taking note of laid back Elias as they passed the joint around. 

He thought about it sometimes. It wasn’t that he was ever invited to these parties. He didn’t have close friends, just … people, acquaintances that knew he’d bring good weed, that thought he was nice enough. The party would be informal, filled with strangers. Filled with little stories and dramas and he would be unnoticed, never taking part himself. 

He liked to pretend he was above it, but truthfully rejection had always stung him bitterly. He was afraid. A coward. He could watch and know these people without having met them, without them knowing him, he could know their surface, but he wouldn’t really be able to tell how they would react to him. 

But it was alright, because the thrill of watching was better. 

It was what had made him send in a resume to the Magnus Institute. He liked the idea of them. Taking stories about ghosts and things. He didn’t really know or understand that it was a place for scholars and research, things he had no interest in. Spooky ghosts. It seemed his speed. 

He got the job. Not to take statements or research. No. He was assigned to Artifact Storage at first. That was where he found his destiny and his proper place in the universe. 

That was where he met his god. 

 

_ “Do you understand yet?” _

 

**2011**

 

Martin liked his job.

It wasn’t a grocer or fast food restaurant. He didn’t have to deal with customers here. He had always been good at it, with people. He always got top marks in his reviews, and here at the institute he still got to talk to people. Following up for research. Most of the people he came in contact were ...well… scared. And he couldn’t blame them with some of the stories they got. He tried to be gentle with them. He always believed them. After all, even if it wasn’t real it still affected them. --Of course there were some people just taking the piss but the Institute left no story untold, and that was good. Sometimes it helped, telling your story…

Not that he would know that. He was a liar after all. A drop out with no credentials whatsoever. His first year here was nerve racking. He kept expecting someone to find out. That he would be called to Elias’ office, his CV on the desk, red pen circled around all his terrible lies and that he would be kicked out. Fired. And then what would he do? Mum was so sick. He needed the money and the Institute paid so much better than any entry level position he was actually qualified for.

But… nothing ever happened. When he was called to Elias’ office it was for a short performance review where he was told off a little for still not understanding the library’s filing system, but otherwise he was doing satisfactory work. That was it. 

So for two years he’d grown… relaxed. He ingratiate himself with his colleagues by making tea and grabbing books and other small gestures. He was good at knowing when people needed something. Probably because his mother was loath to ever ask him for help. He had to know the signs. He got very good at it. Alisha would start crossing her arms and he’d turn up the thermostat. Rosie would start rubbing her hands and he’d hand her some lotion. Ted would get moody and he’d offer a granola bar. He knew everyone’s little indications that they could use a hot drink. He knew how to look after people, and the rest although challenging he learned. Learned how to write research papers and reports that no one seemed to complain about, and earned his paycheck that kept his family afloat.

Of course… it was lonely. Martin had always been...well… shy. Opening up had never been easy for him, not since his father left. He couldn’t exactly invite his co-workers over for a pint. His mother needed her rest, and his flat was small. She hated when he brought people over. She… always had her moods and really it was just better if she had her quiet. Of course, that didn’t stop him from going to other people’s flats and out to the pub, but…

It was… he didn’t really understand it. He liked to think of himself as nice. He got on everyone’s good side, but he didn’t really make friends. Maybe they knew, that underneath everything he was keeping something secret. Or maybe he was unlikable. That hurt to think about and he brushed it aside before he could connect it with his homelife.

The point was, despite everything, Martin liked his Jon.

Job.

Job. He liked his job. 

He didn’t like Jon.

Jon was abrupt, rude, demanding, and all around stressful to work with. It didn’t help that he was absolutely brilliant. That he could rattle off files and dates and books off the top of his head. That he could translate Latin without need of reference guides. That for all his knowledge on the paranormal he seemed almost completely skeptical. He didn’t have a soft touch when dealing with the public, if it was unverifiable he had no time for it. 

It wasn’t even that Jon was egotistical about how knowledgeable he was. He didn’t even really seem to realize how clever he was. It was just a matter of course. A stepping stone to get him to well… Martin didn’t know what. Maybe more information. Most nights Martin would see Jon at his desk reading or going over one thing or another. He was diligent, precise, hardworking and…

And Martin was having a hard time with him honestly. It was… well… he had the feeling Jon didn’t … like him. 

Which… it was just… why would Jon dislike him? He had been nothing but nice to him. He had even shown him around in his first week--not that he actually needed showing around. Jon caught on to the filing system within five minutes of looking in the stacks. It was so stupid. Martin had wanted to make a good impression. The new researcher was supposed to be around his age (although everyone thought Martin was older with all the lies he had put down). Martin had hoped that maybe… well that maybe he might make a friend. Stupid. So stupid. And then meeting him well… Martin froze up. 

Jonathan was … striking. Not classically handsome or anything but just… there was just something so magnetic about him. Silver had started to appear in his dark hair giving him a distinguished look. He was slim, and shorter than Martin. He had a tolerant neutral expression, a polite smile. Martin foolishly thought he might look pretty with a real one-- and his eyes. His eyes were piercing… absorbing. Being in Jon’s gaze was almost painful, but when it left him to trace over the shelves upon shelves of books Martin felt achingly empty.  

“Did you need something?” Jon had asked, noticing Martin was still at his elbow. He had been staring at all the books before that, still and calm, although in retrospect Martin realized he was excited. 

“Well I can show you around the rest of the building, introduce you to some of the others.”

“No need,” Jon waved his hand. “I’m fine… thank you.” It was more of a dismissal than thanks, but Martin didn’t take the hint. 

“I can help you go through the filing system. It’s a little tricky.”

“I got it. I’m good,” Jon said shortly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a cu--”

“Martin.” Jon’s tone drew a harsh edge. “I’m fine. Don’t you have your own work to do?”

Martin made a few bumbling words of … something and left. He tried to tell himself that Jon was just an arse, but rather convinced himself that he had been the one being too pushy. Usually he was better at reading people, but Jon had been irritated from the very beginning, and Martin had been… distracted by him. 

Martin decided that he needed to do better with Jon there and then, but all he managed to do was make things between them worse. He tried to learn Jon’s signals. When he was cold, or hungry, or needed a break, but he didn’t give them off. He had to be just as tired and hungry as anyone else going at the rate he did, but he gave no indication of it. He only continued plowing through books and fieldnotes. Writing down information with his precise handwriting. Never stopping to sigh or look out the window. The only thing that seemed to pick up his mood was when new books came in.

It was actually sort of  worrisome the way Jon treated himself, so rather than helping Jon like he did everyone else Martin… butted in. After four hours he would interrupt and offer tea and biscuits. He would ask if Jon wanted the window open. He would note that it was lunchtime loudly in Jon’s vicinity. If nothing else Martin became good at identifying the range of Jon’s tolerance, but it worked. Jon would drink his tea with a grumbled resentful thanks. He would pull out the paper bag containing his lunch although he wouldn’t stop working while he ate it. He’d offer a pinched look when Martin asked about temperature. It didn’t take long for Martin to stop offering to help with the work itself. He could feel Jon’s estimations of him fall even lower when he handed him the page of translated Latin. 

“How long… have you worked here?” Jon asked slowly.

Martin wished he could just see in Jon’s head so that he could give him what he wanted. Casually asking around to the other researchers didn’t gain much. Jonathan Sims is testy, but so knowledgeable. Have you read his paper on parasycopathy--or… something that sounded like that. Jon was even helpful, albeit grudgingly so with his fellow researchers. He didn’t like the idea of sloppy research representing the Institute so he would proofread, edit, or offer sources to those in need and brave enough to pull him from his own studies. 

Maybe Martin was being unfair. Jon wasn’t always a grouch. He would get very excited and light up when someone got him into a conversation about a topic he didn’t know anything about. He would be extensive in asking all the information he could get on it. It looked … intimate in some ways. Martin had never had a topic that would perk Jon’s interest, but he liked to watch when someone else did. Jon was… captivating when he got like that. It was like a glimpse behind the wall he had built around himself. He was bea--

Martin shook his head in mild despair. Was he really that daft? Jon didn’t like him. There was no point in pining for something that would never happen. He should stop. He should leave Jon be and stop worrying about him and his skipped meals and late hours. 

He should stay away.

He should stop watching him.

But he couldn’t. In fact if anything he watched him more. Wanted to see everything that Jon would show. 

 

_ There’s a feeling here. Bitter mutual understanding. Mild annoyance. One of them wants to deny they are the same. _


End file.
